Please Go
by chervilspotatoes
Summary: Why did Sherlock shoot Magnussen? And how will the answer affect both John and Sherlock?


Please Go

I could hear John climbing the stairs to the flat-well my flat I suppose. John still lives with Mary despite everything that's happened since they got married. If someone shot my best friend, I would certainly not continue to cohabitate with them. And they call me the freak.

John bursts through the door masking his sadness with anger. Ah, fight with Mary then. The last time he looked like that, I got tackled onto my bandaged back and attacked three times, so I hum at him and don't attempt conversation, hoping he will angrily make tea and then angrily go upstairs to the bed that is still made for him-pathetic isn't it how I still keep it ready.

"Sherlock can you bloody listen to me for once?!" Apparently I'm not so lucky. All right, senseless shouting and hurting it is then. "I'm listening," I say neutrally even though I know pretty much what John is going to say. He's going to tell me about the fight he had with Mary with a lot of shouting and swearing thrown in. While I could deduce what their fight was about, I decide not to expend the effort, as I'll get far more of the story than I want to anyway. This often is interspersed with 'why didn't you tell me Sherlock's and 'this is all your fault Sherlock'. How his choice in partner and subsequent marriage troubles are my fault I don't understand. Have I not done enough to make sure he is happy even though that means my own demise?

For once John is straight to the point. "Why did you shoot Magnussen, Sherlock?" Everything freezes for an interminable amount of time before I stumble out "He-he had to be stopped from preying on others." "No," returns steely eyed John. Does John know how terrifying I find that face? It's the same face he used to level at those who harmed me. Finding it pointed towards myself is at the very least a disconcerting experience. "There's more you still aren't telling me Sherlock! After all this time and all I've done for you can you not even tell me why you shot an unarmed man right in front of me?" He's shouting by the end, but this is getting into dangerous territory. I would much rather he walk out in a huff, and my next words have a reasonable probability of eliciting that reaction.

"You're one to talk." I say. At this reference to our first case together John gets a manic look on his face. "But I did that to protect your sorry-" I turned tail and fled to my room, closing the door, needing to get away from John and his judgment and cold eyes that used to look at me with such warmth. My heart is pounding from fear. Fear of John. He used to be my safety.

"Please open the door." He says, sounding calmer. Resigning myself to my fate, I crack it open. John pushes it all the way open and steps in. I sit on my bed and cross my ankles, waiting with my head down for John to figure it out before raising it and taking some dignity back.

Staring him right in the eye, I pronounce "I love you. I had to keep you safe and happy. I expect nothing of you. Please go." At the last phrase, I dropped my head and waited to hear John's fading footsteps. None came. Instead I hear a chuckle, then a full out laugh.

"Your acting really has gotten better Sherlock I'm sure the women will all fall for that. Especially with the sad wet eyes and fake embarrassment." Were my eyes wet? Apparently so. John gave a full out belly laugh and I heard a strangled sob break free from my chest. John carried on unhearing and unaware of my agony. "You fooled Janine well enough but man that's great! You'll be able to manipulate whoever you want now-" he stopped as by this point I was trying to muffle my pitiful hacking breaths in my hands unsuccessfully. I drew my knees to my chest in a vague, unrealistic sense of comfort. Not only did John not handle my proffered heart gently but still set it down as I hoped he would, for I never expected anything nearing reciprocation as I told him, but he was laughing at me for my feelings and didn't believe they were real. I knew it was a mistake to fall in love. Hearing John now was worse than any physical hurt I had ever endured. I gave John everything as soon as I knew how I felt, I would do anything to make him happy and he tears my tender heart to shreds. There is a reason I protect it. But now that it is rather broken and my fears have been actualized I guess there is no more reason to as John got it anyway.

"Oh Sherlock you're serious aren't you oh God I can't I just…" and he turned and left me there on my bed, openly weeping and my heart torn to shreds and stomped on. Too late I hear the door slam, marking the departure of all the hope from my life.


End file.
